The King's Seat
by elzebrook
Summary: It was gold. It was large. It was, unquestionably, the throne of Poseidon. And Elizabeth stared at it in a way that made Jack simultaneously jealous of and embarrassed for a piece of furniture. Story 2 in The Scarlet Swan Series. Post AWE JE, M for sex.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **Yay, sequels!! It's a working title at the moment, I don't really like it. I may come up with something better, you never know. The first bit of the prologue is the inscription on the locket and the last bit of the epilogue, but I'm sure you already knew that. If you didn't go read _A Debt to be Repaid_ right now, or none of this will make sense. I promise an acutal chapter soon, really.

* * *

Prologue

Sail east of the moon and west of the sun  
And still of the treasure you seek you'll find none  
Sail to the very ends of the earth  
And all you'll find is the lost soul's berth  
Yet sail to the place where day and night meet  
And there you'll find where the King made his seat

_At the very bottom of the paper were the words "Finders keepers." It was signed with a six pointed star and an ornate E. _

_Jack stared at it for a long moment, and then, slowly, a grin stole across his face. He threw back his head and laughed and laughed. _

_He looked at the paper again, still chuckling, and shook his head admiringly. _

_"Pirate."_

_-------------------------------------- _

"Cap'n?"

Jack stood at the port side railing, idly flicking the locket open and closed, open and closed with his clever fingers. It was like picking pockets, so easy once the fingers knew how. He stared vaguely at the rock that marked the entrance. Remarkable, really, that there were a series of fifteen foot tall caverns beneath is.

Open, closed, open closed. The locket flashed in the sun, and for a moment he remembered a different set of fingers on it, a softer light.

"Cap'n?" Gibbs asked again. Jack jumped.

"What?"

"We've sighted a ship off starboard, Cap'n. It looked to be the one we've been…waiting for." He looked at Jack, brows knitted. "You alright?"

Jack shook the last of his reverie from his mind.

"Fine, Gibbs." He turned away from the railing, shoving the pendant in his pocket and pulling out a telescope.

"Now tell me," he said, "where is this ship?"


	2. Hemera kai Nyx

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **For some reason, this story has decided that all its chapters must be titled in ancient Greek. I speak less ancient Greek than I speak Latin. Consider this my cry for help. Anyway, FF doesn't take kindly to strange symbols, so it will be Romanized Greek.

Before anyone says anything, I am perfectly aware that Jack's little air cask idea wouldn't work. To put any annoyance over the impossible physics in perspective, let me remind you that you are reading a story about the lost treasure of a dead pagan sea god which is in underwater caves. This is a story. Physics doesn't apply to stories, and neither does the actual probabilty of a situation.

Hemera and Nyx are, respectively, the primordial personifications of Day and Night in Greek mythology. "Kai" means "and". I hope.

* * *

Chapter One: Hemera kai Nyx

Elizabeth hung onto the rigging with a hand, staring at the massive rock field ahead of her, a product of the volcanoes above and below the surface. She scanned the ocean as the wind stroked her face and tangled in her hair, looking for the tell-tale rock shaped like a bird in flight. She squinted her eyes and tilted her head to the left. With a certain amount of imagination, a rock to the left looked sort of like a seagull, providing the seagull had a club foot and a dislocated wing. Elizabeth gave a mental shrug. It was a good enough place as any, and they had time. She looked down at Midori, who was watching her anxiously from below.

"Port!" called Elizabeth, pointing at the deformed seagull. Midori nodded.

"Are you coming down?" she yelled. "The wind's picking up."

As if to prove her words, a strong gust that smelled of rain threatened to tear Elizabeth from the rigging. She tightened her hold and laughed aloud, exhilarated. This was her favorite place, among the ropes and taut canvas. It almost felt like flying.

"Not if I can help it!" she yelled. Midori shook her head and went to inform Dai of their new direction. Elizabeth raised her face for the wind's rough blessing, and smiled with the fierce and wild joy of a hawk on the wing.

------------------

Jack grinned to himself a bit as he swam through the underwater tunnels, the cask tied to his wrist floating along beside him. He was looking very much forward to Elizabeth's face. The cask suddenly jerked to a stop, as the rope snagged on an outthrust of rock and jack pulled up short. He let out an oath in the form of a bubble.

_Bloody nuisance_, he thought murderously as he untangled it. It was absolutely necessary, this cask, and one of his more brilliant ideas, but he hated the damn thing. It was a little watertight barrel with a wax-sealed pipe in one end and a small plug on the side. One unstopped the pipe and pulled out the plug at the same time. Water came in through the plug and forced air out the pipe, so that a person—namely Jack—could snag a quick breath. It wasn't perfect, and it was really only good for one breath, but Jack only needed one extra breath to reach the caverns. He still hated it, it was just another reminder that he was getting old. He hated those reminders. There was a time where he could hold his breath for five minutes at a time and think nothing of it. Seal, they'd called him.

And now, here he was, relying on barrels of air so he wouldn't drown. He pouted as he shortened the rope, and swam on.

A few minutes later, he climbed out of the water sat on the ground, panting. He'd be the first to admit he hadn't taken the greatest care of his body, but really, this was ridiculous. He was going to end up just like his father, unable to even climb the rigging without wheezing…Jack sighed.

When he caught his breath, he made his way to the bag he'd left there a few days earlier, when they'd first arrived. It held dry clothes—his best clothes, too, not that that said much—food and, of course, rum. There was also a very small, very important object that he set carefully on a rock before taking a swig of rum. It burned comfortably on the way down, extending to the tips of his fingers and chilled toes. Jack savored it for a moment before stripping off his wet clothes and shoving them and the blasted cask into a dark alcove.

He hopped around a bit and shook himself like a dog, hoping to dry off. It worked, somewhat, and he pulled on his dry clothes. He passed a hand over his dreadlocks and straightened his waistcoat, wondering vaguely if there was a mirror anywhere. He looked around at the glittering, glimmering mess of treasure—a shipfull, and this was only the first cave—and decided it wasn't worth it.

He grabbed the little object off the rock and dropped it in his pocket. Then he sashayed down to the water's edge with a bottle of rum and dropped onto a rock. He leaned back, Elizabeth's surprised topaz gaze swimming before his minds eye and grinned. He took a swig of rum and settled down to wait.


	3. Sunantaô

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **It's short, I'm sorry. The next one's longer. I owe thanks and a bucket of cookies to **SoftStuff **for her mad skills.

Sunantaô: to meet face to face

* * *

Chapter Two: Sunantaô

Elizabeth allowed herself a smile as she slid through the water. It was ethereal, this underground, underwater world, lit by a faint blue bioluminescence that seemed to come from the very walls. If the chart was right, the caves should be only a few minutes swim ahead. The chart had been dead on so far (with the possible exception of the misshapen gull), but Midori had convinced Elizabeth to let out a rope behind her as she swam, since she refused to have anyone else with her. Selfish as she was, Elizabeth wanted the first glimpse of the treasure to be hers and hers alone. Not to mention there was always the chance that Jack had come and gone already. It was a slight chance—they'd seen neither hide nor hair of the _Pearl _the entire trip—but Elizabeth wasn't sure how she would take that disappointment. It seemed safer to go alone.

As she swam through the eerie blue light, she wondered for the thousandth time what had possessed her to give that locket to Jack. Months later, and she still didn't know the answer. She supposed, in the small, cold, twisted thing that was her heart, she felt she did owe him something. After all, he'd saved her life more times than she cared to remember, and all she'd done was kill him and break his heart. And burn his rum. And run away, time and time again.

Ah, well. She owed him nothing now. Even if he never found the treasure, the locket in itself was worth a broken heart or two. With a mental shrug, she banished all though of Jack from her mind, concentrating on the task at hand.

-----------------------

A godawful clatter jerked Jack awake, and he sat bolt upright, wondering where he was and what the hell was going on. He looked around. He was alone in a cave, sitting on a very uncomfortable rock. An almost empty bottle of rum rocked gently on the ground beside him. He stared at it as his senses slowly returned to him. So that was what had made the noise. He picked up the bottle, thanking whatever gods were listening that the thick glass remained unbroken. He lifted it up to examine the contents critically, but something caught his eye. There was a dark shape in the water, swimming towards the rocks.

_Finally_, he thought with an anticipatory grin, and raised the bottle up to his lips.

Elizabeth broke the surface of the water and tossed her dripping hair out of her face. The first thing she saw was a pair of brown leather boots. Incredulous, she followed the boots up to a pair of black breeches, and then to an arm clad in a white cotton sleeve holding a bottle of rum. The rum paused halfway up to a pair of lips, but Elizabeth's disbelieving gaze kept moving upwards until it met a pair of kohl-rimmed chocolate eyes, sparkling with mischief.

Jack watched her face, wondering if this moment was worth everything he had gone through to get here first. Her mouth went slack and her eyes held complete and utter shock. She took another step forward, water streaming off her, an Aphrodite rising from the foam, her shirt clinging suggestively to her body. She opened her mouth.

"Damn."

Jack grinned. Yeah, it was worth it.


	4. Hêdonê

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **Oh, look, I'm back. With smut! As always, my beta is my hero, this time for saving me from the repulsive American grammer to which I am prone. Lesse..The quote Elizabeth says is from Ralph Waldo Emerson, which is flagrantly the wrong time period, but it needed to be there. And yes, I read too much Greek mythology in my formative years and now it imbues everything I write, even the sex scenes. Ah well.

Hêdonê: pleasure

* * *

Chapter Three: Hêdonê

"Took you bloody long enough," said Jack, standing up. Elizabeth stared at him, her expression blank.

"All in one breath, eh?" he asked, looking her over. Her nipples were hardening from the cool air, visible through the dark burgundy of her shirt. Jack swallowed and forced his mind back up into his head and his gaze up to her face. She stood there, dripping silently.

"Impressive," he finished. Elizabeth's face relaxed and she shook her head, her lips tinged with a wry smile.

"You bastard," she said. "You complete and utter bastard."

Jack laughed and extended a hand toward her. "C'mon, love, let me show you around."

Still shaking her head, she took his hand and let him pull her out of the water.

-----------------

Elizabeth gasped. Jack watched her with satisfaction. He knew she'd never seen anything like this in her life, and, with his impeccable sense of drama, he left it until last. It hadn't been easy. Every time they had entered a new cave, she had emitted little gasps, or soft sighs, or "ohs" of wonder and with every noise he had just wanted to take her right then, on top of the piles of gold coins, or chests of mahogany, or the stone floor. But he had been patient, and insisted she explore every room, marvel over every treasure, and he had been rewarded. He saw a side of Elizabeth he didn't even think she knew she had anymore. While he watched, Captain Swann had slipped away, revealing a young woman with a young woman's love of beautiful things, who giggled and blushed as she tried on priceless, flawless jewels, drunk on the smell of gold and the sight of sparkling stones. She still wore some of those jewels now; heavy gold chains wrapped around her neck and a particularly garish ruby and diamond ring adorned her index finger.

"Ohhh…" she breathed as she stared into the cave. Jack's muscles clenched, and he followed Elizabeth's gaze in a vain attempt to distract himself. It was, all in all, a beautiful room, with fluted marble columns and artistically arranged statues and artifacts of incalculable worth and all manner of lovely things, but all of that was nothing—_nothing_—compared to what was in the center. There, on a dais, was what was unquestionably the throne of Poseidon himself.

It was gold. It was large. It was emphatically masculine, and yet intricate, covered with reliefs of Oceanids and hippocampi cavorting in the waves and, oh, not just cavorting…And Elizabeth stared at it in a way that made Jack simultaneously jealous of and embarrassed for a piece of furniture. She took a step forward, and then glanced back at Jack, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. He smiled indulgently.

"Go ahead, love. I've been all over these caves and there's not been a hint of supernatural smiting. Ole Whatisface is long gone."

Elizabeth eyed him a moment longer, before deciding he was telling the truth. She nodded once and walked on. Jack ambled after her, enjoying the view. She climbed the steps of the dais and stared at the throne with a kind of awe-ful lust. Jack wished she would look at him like that.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked softly. Elizabeth nodded and tore her eyes away from it to look at him.

"D'you think…I mean, have you…well…you know…" She gestured toward the throne, her expression caught somewhere between guilt and mischief.

"Sat in it?" Jack finished for her, amused. She nodded.

"That's a bit sacrilegious, love, don't you think?"

Her gaze slipped from the throne and towards his face, an eyebrow cocked.

"I mean, it's the throne of the Sea King himself. And it's sat here for over a thousand years, untouched. Just think, love," Jack said, spreading his arms to indicate the room, "no one has profaned this sacred space since before Jesus walked the earth. No one has sat in that throne since Poseidon ruled all the waters of the world."

Elizabeth watched Jack steadily as he turned to her.

"…Yet," he said, a spark of mischief flashing in his eyes. A smile to match the spark spread in answer across Elizabeth's face.

"Will you do the honors, Milady?" Jack asked, indicating the throne with a mocking courtly bow. With an air of great solemnity, Elizabeth ascended the remaining steps and sat gingerly.

Nothing happened.

She wriggled a bit, as if settling in and placed her arms on the arm rests, a speculating look on her face. Jack suppressed an insane urge to giggle.

"Well, love?" he asked. "How does it feel?"

"This," Elizabeth announced with majesty, staring off into the distance "is one damned uncomfortable chair."

Jack gave a whoop of laughter and clung to the armrest. He snuck a glance at Elizabeth's face, still wearing a look of distant nobility, and for some reason this entertained him more. He sunk down on his knees next to the throne, shaking with mirth.

Elizabeth looked down at him.

"What on earth is so funny?" she demanded.

"Most powerful god…his bloody _throne_" Jack forced out between giggles, "and all you can say is…" He gave a whinny of laughter. "_Damned uncomfortable_?"

He sank down on his haunches and positively howled. Elizabeth watched him, wondering if perhaps the race for this treasure trove had finally driven him all the way round the bend. Finally, he caught his breath and propped his elbows up on the arm rest. He rested his chin in his hand and looked seriously at her.

"Would you like a cushion?" he inquired. She stared at him for a moment.

"Well, I don't know," she said. "D'you think you could find one?"

Jack took one look at her honeyed eyes, alight with laughter and dancing with mischief and lost his head completely. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and the other around her waist and pulled her inexorably toward him until her lips met his.

For a moment, he lost himself in the taste of the sea and the sweet sense of homecoming. Then Elizabeth shifted, and he remembered where he was, who he was kissing, and _exactly_ how good she was with a knife.

He broke off the kiss hurriedly and sat back. It seemed very quiet in the throne room, nothing but the sound of Elizabeth's soft breathing and the quickening pound of Jack's own heart. He took a breath, cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he ventured, finally. Elizabeth said nothing. Slowly, reluctantly, he dragged his gaze to her face.

"For what, exactly?" she inquired. Her eyes glittered and a small, dangerous smile curved her lips—

—dangerous because it was a smile that angels would fall to be near and her eyes looked at Jack the way she looked at the throne she sat upon, the way a starving man looked at a banquet, the way Circe eyed Odysseus, lust and want and need and absolute power flaring in the melichrous depths. She held out a hand. Jack knelt before her and she buried her hands in his dreadlocks, forcing his head back. He started to speak, but she brushed her lips across his, whispering "Let us be silent, that we may hear the whispers of the gods," before capturing his mouth in a kiss. He would have gasped, if he could, so strong was her want, her need. He felt as if she were sucking the breath from his very bones, but he didn't care. He tasted blood and wanted more, clawing at her clothes as she slipped his shirt from his shoulders. She emerged and he pulled away to look at her, all long legs and lithe body, glowing like honey in the white room. Golden chains snaked around her neck and fell across her small breasts, gleaming against her fair skin. Her eyes glittered an impossible array of amber and topaz and her lips were swollen from his kisses. She was like sunlight, like fire and he so very badly wanted to get burned.

He reached out a reverent hand to stroke her skin.

"Stand up," she whispered, slipping off the throne to kneel in front of him. He complied. With a swift movement, she undid his belt and stripped him of his trousers. He looked down at her bright head.

" Elizabeth, what are you—" he began, but then he felt a touch, feather light and burning like a brand. "Oh," he said. "That."

Elizabeth leaned forward.

"Jesus," he gasped, his voice hoarse. He could feel her smiling, knew she gloried in this power, knew she could run him through right then and he would die a happy, helpless man. He felt all his thoughts slipping away like silver fish, losing himself in the pure sensation of her mouth, her hands. She released him and stood up, trailing little kissing nips and fingernails up with her. His mouth sought hers and he almost fancied he could taste himself on her lips. The world was spinning around them now, or perhaps they were spinning around in the world, but it didn't matter as his legs hit the throne and she pushed him down on it, as she straddled his thighs and started to move. She was hot and tight and wet and shone above him like daybreak on the waves. He was climbing, climbing, climbing ever higher as she rocked above him, climbing so high he felt as if he could touch the sun, and in that moment when she shuddered around him and cried out his name, in that moment when his every muscle went rigid and his blood caught fire, he was touching the sun for this was the place where day and night meet in a blinding flash of light that exploded before them, around them, inside them. And then he was falling, falling, falling back into the darkly welcoming embrace of the sea.

----------

Elizabeth reclined lazily in the throne, toying with the buttons of her half-open shirt, and watched Jack trying to sort out his jumbled pile of clothing and effects. The way that man dressed was ridiculous. It'd taken her a total of thirty seconds to get dressed, most of which was used to turn her breeches the right way out, and ten minutes later, Jack had managed to put on his own breeches and nothing else. Not that she was complaining, really, she thought, as he pulled on a sash which had somehow become stuck to his waistcoat. Muscles shifted underneath the tattooed canvas of his skin. She slid off the throne and walked over to him, studying the tattoos. She traced a few with her fingertip, an Aztec looking sun and a few words in a language entirely unknown to her. Jack looked at her over his shoulder.

"Like them, do you?" he asked, grinning a bit. She nodded.

"What do they mean?"

Jack shrugged. The tattoos rippled. Elizabeth resisted a very strong urge to pull him down and have her way with him again.

"Damned if I know," he said. "What's it look like at the moment?"

She looked at him blankly.

"You mean you don't know what your own tattoos look like?"

"They change, love," he said, by way of explanation. "According to…I don't know what actually, since I don't know what they say. They're the doing of a little old wise-woman I met in my misspent youth. I was assured by her tribe that it was a great honor, since most of the time she just killed people." Jack shrugged again. Elizabeth swallowed and managed a somewhat strangled "Mmm." Jack turned back to his labors.

"Need any help?" Elizabeth asked, when she could trust herself to speak.

"Me? No," Jack said. "I'm just looking for something…I could've sworn I put it in the…Maybe it's in this one…"

He rifled through his pockets, muttering. Elizabeth watched him, amusement glinting in her eyes.

"Ah," he said, finally. "I found it."

He turned around to face her, one hand closed into a fist.

"I know I beat you here and all, but since I am such a kind and generous soul—"

"Thin ice, Jack," said Elizabeth, eyebrow raised.

"And seeing as you're the one who gave me directions in the first place," he continued smoothly, "it doesn't strike me as quite fair that you leave entirely empty-handed, so with that in mind, I would like to give you a small trifle, a memento, a token of my appreciation. As it were."

Elizabeth's other eyebrow went up. Jack grinned and opened his hand.

In his palm, gleaming against his gypsy-dark skin, lay a small, golden ring.


	5. Kathupakouô

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **My beta is still wonderful. I don't know if this'll have an epilogue or not. Probably not. I'm not done with these characters anyway (or they're not done with me, depending on how one looks at it), so there'll be a whole other fic or two dealing with the "afterwards," as it were. And I'm not telling you what the Greek means til the end, because it'll ruin the whole chapter.

* * *

Chapter Four: Kathupakouô

Elizabeth stared.

"Jack…" she said, slowly. "What are you asking?"

"Well I thought that'd be pretty obvious love. I'm asking you to…Lizzie?"

Elizabeth was looking at the ring with all the terrified fascination of an animal caught in a snake's gaze, remembering another hand, another ring.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. She could feel the rain on her face, hear the boom of the cannons and the screams of the dying…Her eyes flickered up to Jack's face, wide and dark with fear, not really seeing him.

"No," she said again, backing away.

"Lizzie?" Jack swore under his breath. This was not how it was supposed to go. He took a step forward, reached toward her. She stumbled back a few more steps, arms crossed over her chest as if afraid she would fly to pieces.

"Don't touch me!" she said, her voice rising. Jack stopped, his brown eyes warm with concern, so reminiscent of another pair. She turned her back towards him, unwilling to let him see her like this. _Dammit_, a part of her thought. _And here I'd been doing so well…_

She squeezed her own eyes shut and tried to steady her breathing. She hated this, the sudden surge of recollection, the random moments of frozen panic, the flash-floods of memories from the fragile dam of her self-control. Will appeared before her mind's eye, his face—

—_streaked with rain like the tears she had no time to shed. In his palm lay what was to be his wedding ring, the one they'd picked out together, a plain gold band, simple, pure. Like him, she'd teased. Like their love, he'd countered. _

_"What are you saying?" she asked, terrified, horrified. _

_Will's brown eyes black in the half-dark of the storm. Unreadable. Not hers. _

_"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I can't." _

_Will's voice, quiet, but she could always hear him. _

_The ring fell from her numb fingers and landed in a puddle, gleaming against the dark wood of the deck. _

_Will's back, as he turned and walked away through the battle. _

_Will, leaving her. Forever. _

The memories faded. Elizabeth took stock of her surroundings. She was still standing, at least. The sun had come up sometime during their time together, filtering through the ceiling of the cave and pooling on the floor. She just let herself breathe for a moment, ignoring Jack's anxious gaze on her back. She straightened up, a slow, deliberate reclaiming of herself from her past. She opened her eyes, lifted her head, and turned to face him.

"What do you want, Jack?" she asked, her voice cool.

"Want?" he echoed.

"Yes. Want," she said. "You obviously still want something, although by my reckoning, all my debts to you are paid."

"Is that what you think this is?" he asked, incredulous. "Payment?"

"I can fathom no other reason for it. What good is a mad girl with a broken crown on her head and blood on her hands?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she recited the words so many had called her. "I can't even bear children."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" he asked, furiously. "Bloody hell, Liz, can't a man just want you for your own sake?"

"Not a pirate, Jack. And you are. So, I ask you again: What do you want from me?"

"Just the pleasure of your sweet company, love," Jack said, his voice sardonic.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and turned away as if to leave. Jack caught her shoulder, unwilling to let her go without a damn good reason. She stiffened.

"Kindly remove your hand, _Captain_."

"No, I bloody won't. Not 'til you answer my question. Lizzie…Why don't you believe me?"

She spun around, eyes flashing.

"Because I know you, Jack. It's the quest that delights you, the chase you love. Once you have what you're after, you lose interest entirely."

Jack snorted.

"I wouldn't 'have' you, _Captain Swann_. No one ever could. I pity the poor sod who tries."

"Oh, yes, that's a sure way to win a girl's heart."

"Oh? And how does one win your heart, pray tell?" he asked, acid bitter on his tongue.

"I have no heart to win, Jack Sparrow," she said flatly. He looked at her.

"You really believe that, don't you?"

Elizabeth regarded him steadily.

"I don't have to."

Jack said nothing, just stared at the ground.

"You're breakin' my heart, love," he said, after a moment.

"Yes, well, I think all this treasure is worth a broken heart or two, so if you'll excuse me…" She turned around and walked toward the entrance, skirting a patch of sunshine as though it would burn her.

"No," said Jack, quietly, still staring at the ground. "It's not."

Something in his voice made her turn back, look at his dark shape through the light. He looked up at her, a small, sad smile on his face.

"It may be worth my heart a few times over, but it's not worth you. Nothing's worth you."

Elizabeth stared at him.

"I wept that morning, you know," he said, conversationally. "After you left."

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"I dunno. Because I love you, I suppose."

She shook her head. "No, Jack—"

"Yes," he said, simply. "I do."

"No, you don't!" she shouted. "You don't love me! You don't even know me! The girl you loved is dead, Jack, she died the day I was born. I'm not Miss Elizabeth Swann, I'm not the governor's daughter—"

"Well, that's bloody fine with me, darlin', because I never loved that prissy Miss Elizabeth Swann. I love the woman who left me to die and wasn't sorry, the woman for whom men fought a war against the Devil himself and won, the woman who takes what she wants and damns the consequences. And you want me, love, don't deny it. I've seen that fire in your eyes, I know the heat you feel when you're near me, seen the way you shiver beneath my touch, and I know it for what it is, 'cos you do the same damn thing to me. Elizabeth…" He looked at her through the shaft of sunlight, an impassable gulf between them.

"Lizzie. I never wanted her. I want you."

"I'm not who you think I am, Jack."

"Oh? And who are you then? Please, tell me, for I would dearly like to know."

She regarded him for a moment, her eyes unreadable, and then took one step toward him, one step to bring her into the light. Jack blinked.

Her shirt, now dry, glowed crimson and, her skin shone sunkissed bronze, but her hair…her hair blazed up, incarnadine streaking through the blonde waves like dolphins, twining and spreading through the curls like scarlet ribbons in the water. She glowed red and gold in the sunlight, the colors of blood and greed and piracy, the essence of their chosen lives distilled into one beautiful, dangerous woman with eyes like chips of amber and Lilith's own smile.

"I am the Scarlet Swan," she said, simply.

It was a name he had originally heard whispered the first few days after The Battle, after the world had seen Elizabeth unleashed in all her unholy glory, soaked in other people's blood, eyes glowing with the lust for more. He'd heard it since then too, every time they'd made port, every time a few pirates gathered together for a moment of company in the corners of taverns or under the all-seeing eye of the moon. And he'd known it was her they spoke of in the darkness, voices hushed with reverence and taut with desire and tinged with fear. Known it was his Lizzie, all grown up.

He took a step forward and reached out a wondering hand to finger the scarlet.

"Aye," he said, after a moment "Y'are. But you are also Elizabeth. You speak of being owned, of belonging to, and yet I don't think you realize the Scarlet Swan _is_ owned. She belongs to the Brethren, to her subjects. She's a symbol, Lizzie, a newborn legend, and do you know what legends do? They grow, and they grow until the stories eclipse the maker and suddenly you're trying to outdo your own deeds, trying to measure up to your own exaggerated standard, trying to beat yourself at your own game, and who can do that? They take and they take until there's no 'you' left, only a name and a fear. She'll swallow you whole, Liz, and she won't even spit out the bones."

Jack's voice was hard, and held a bitterness that could only be born of long knowledge, yet his eyes looked at Elizabeth almost pleadingly.

"You speak of freedom, and that's all I offer to you. Freedom, Liz. No pretensions, no stories, no acts. This needn't be marriage proposal, merely a promise of a place where you can just be Elizabeth. Just a place where you can _be_."

"Where, Jack?" Elizabeth looked at him, her voice little more than a whisper, tears glimmering in her golden eyes, cracking the façade she worked so hard to build. "Where?"

He took another step forward and enfolded her in his arms, resting his cheek against her bright head.

"Here, love. Always here."

* * *

Kathupakouô consent. See, told you it'd ruin it. 


End file.
